01/14/2026
So at 50ish, I reflect…
My ripped jeans didn’t mean I was unkept.
My tie-dye tights didn’t mean I was colourblind.
My wardrobe, which consisted mainly of black clothing, didn’t make me morbid.
My hairstyle - a different colour each month - didn’t mean I was trying to be defiant just because it didn’t meet the standard of the time for what a girl should look like.
People looked at me and thought I was being disrespectful when, in fact, I was respecting the most important person in the room, me.
At the time, I didn’t succumb to fashion fallacy. I found, rejoiced, embraced and loved me in all of my uniqueness.
I was finding my voice, my authenticity, my passion, my soul, my inspiration. I was finding myself, and I wasn’t listening to those who said otherwise.
But somewhere along the way, I lost myself. I listened to the minutia of what should and shouldn’t be instead of listening to my heart. Don’t get me wrong.
They’ve been some incredible things to come into my life, but losing me was the one thing I needed to get back.
So I’ve done my inner work. I’m doing my inner work.
I will continue to do my inner work because, at 50-ish, when I close my eyes, I still see the 5-year-old me, filled with hope, and I feel the energy of my 20-year-old self in the tie-dye pants, ripped jeans, the spiky hair, a different colour every month.
I still feel the wonderment, the excitement of being alive, and I find myself.
So at 50-ish, I will be the one who has purple in her hair, the one wearing the ripped jeans, the tie-dye tights and the baggy black sweatshirt to honour that girl that’s still here, that has always been here.
The girl who’s curious, who’s full of hope, who trusts the universe has her back. The girl, now a woman, is ready to make a difference in this world.
I close my eyes, I hold my 5-year-old and 20-year-old's hands, and together we stand.
Welcome home.
Written by: Darlene Wierski-Devoe
Photograph: Laurie Goodman Photography
